


Failed

by wheel_pen



Series: Agent and Doctor [7]
Category: The Bourne Legacy (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 21:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3303980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeremy fails a mission, which tends to make agents go a little haywire. Dr. Ward is called in to deal with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Failed

“What’s wrong?” Rachel asked, appearing in the hallway near the observation room.

Quarles raised an eyebrow at her. “Sorry to interrupt your game, Doctor—“ he said dryly.

“You _paged_ me, Director,” she pointed out, business-like. She was still wearing her tennis whites, having assumed whatever he’d wanted couldn’t wait for her to change.

“Yes, we’re having a situation with one of the agents—“ Delu began vaguely.

There was a thump and muffled shouting from the observation room and Rachel hurried ahead a few steps to look in the window. The furniture in the room was trashed and Jeremy was pacing back and forth muttering to himself, fury in every step. “What happened?” Rachel demanded, clinically assessing the lacerations she could see on the side of his face.

Delu looked uncomfortable. “Well, sometimes this happens when, er—“

“He failed his mission,” Quarles supplied bluntly. “He came back in, but he took out a few guards and we barely got him in that room. We got his gun from him, whatever _that’s_ worth.”

“They short-circuit a little,” Delu added delicately, “when they can’t complete a mission.”

Jeremy turned and stared at the window, which to him looked like a mirror, then suddenly threw himself at it with a vicious snarl. The three observers drew back instinctively.

“We’re working on pumping some anesthetic gas through the ventilation ducts,” Delu went on. “Maybe you should wait—“

“He’s been hurt,” Rachel noticed when Jeremy turned away. The side of his jacket against his ribs was dark with blood. She headed for the door, looking expectantly at the two men.

Something inside the room went flying and crashed against the wall. “Why did you call me,” Rachel pressed impatiently, “if you weren’t going to let me treat him?”

Delu and Quarles glanced at each other, then Quarles shrugged, so with great reluctance Delu moved to the keypad on the wall. He typed in a few numbers and the outer door hissed as it unsealed; inside the room Jeremy froze, focusing on the entryway. It was a double entry, of course, with the inner door not beginning to open until the first one had been locked again. Jeremy backed away from the inner door quickly as it opened, arms wrapped tight around himself. His surprise at seeing Rachel was matched only by his confusion over her outfit.

“I’m undercover,” she told him briskly, deciding it would take too long to explain. “Jeremy, are you—“ He growled low in his throat warningly as he backed against the wall. “Don’t you growl at me,” Rachel snapped, her fear turning to exasperation. “Get over on that table. Go!”

Amazingly he obeyed, skittering over to the toppled exam table and pulling it back up. At the last moment he hesitated, hunched over the end of the table, eyes hooded and muscles tensed as if to spring. “Jeremy,” Rachel warned firmly. He didn’t move, even to blink, and her eyes strayed to the bloodied coat. She didn’t think waiting until he passed out from blood loss was a viable option. With a deep breath she grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled.

He dragged his feet but moved forward, his hands going up and out as if afraid to touch her. “Sit up here,” Rachel instructed in a kinder tone, trying to push the jacket off his shoulders. This was made difficult by the fact that he couldn’t keep his hands still.

“I was supposed to bring in the asset,” he babbled suddenly.

“It’s alright, sit still,” Rachel encouraged, finally pushing the coat aside. He leaned over and sniffed her as she tried to remove his shirt.

“—the asset, but there was a bomb,” he went on.

That explained the cuts on his face and arm on the same side. “Yes, I see,” Rachel agreed. “Sit still. Just—“ She finally grabbed both his hands in hers, forcing him to stay still or risk hurting her.

In the hallway, Quarles and Delu made eye contact, and Quarles raised an eyebrow significantly.

Rachel gathered Jeremy’s hands into one of hers and pulled them to the side, bending down to look at his ribs. The sight shocked her—aside from a few minor scrapes, the skin was unbroken. She looked further around his back and down his hip but could find no injury to match the amount of blood she’d seen.

“You’re undercover,” he said randomly, breathing rapidly. He was obviously trying to calm himself. “What are you?”

“A tennis player,” Rachel replied absently. With trepidation she picked up his bloody coat.

“Not very subtle,” Jeremy judged.

Rachel hesitantly reached into the coat pocket and pulled out a severed hand. Only her medical training prevented her from screaming in horror and flinging it away. Jeremy took it from her easily, turning it so his own hand was clasping it. “I was bringing in the asset,” he repeated, “and there was a bomb.” It was a woman’s hand, dark-skinned, which had been messily separated from the rest of her body. He stared to the side as though he could see the rest of the woman standing there whole.

“This is all I’ve got,” he finally said.

“Okay, let’s just—“ Rachel took the severed hand from him and dropped it into a pan, wiping her hands on a towel. “There. Now let me see—“

She turned his face to hers, trying to hold him still while checking his eyes. “Put your hands on my waist,” she ordered and he did so, biting his lip as though it were extremely painful for him. She opened his eyelid wider and gazed at him carefully with her penlight, then checked the other. “I think you have a concussion,” she judged, carefully moving her fingers along his scalp. “I need the CT machine prepped for a scan—“

Jeremy laid his head down on her shoulder, which despite the circumstances was not unpleasant—until she realized he wasn’t supporting any of his own weight. “Jeremy? Jeremy!” With effort she pushed him upright enough to see his closed eyes and the blood trickling from his nose. Then he started to slump sideways. “I need some help in here,” she shouted, just as some orderlies were admitted to the room. They got him laid out and strapped down to the exam table, ready to be moved to the clinic. Rachel decided to leave the severed hand behind, for her superiors to deal with.


End file.
